Dear Roomie (Rookie Rebels #5) - Kate Meader Page 0,22

together. He wanted to train them against each other, hoping to instill a competitive spirit. They wouldn’t just compete on the ice, they would compete in all areas.

All with the goal of winning Henri Durand’s approval. To know Henri was to understand that there wasn’t enough of that precious commodity for both his sons.

For five years, they trained as a duo, though at two years older, Reid was better for a while. Stronger. Back then he didn’t enjoy hockey all that much, merely saw it as a tool to win his stepfather’s love and respect.

By the time Reid was ten, Bastian was starting to catch up and fulfill the promise of the Durand genes. It was the great experiment, nature versus nurture. Reid had the training, the need to prove himself, and maybe that was why Henri pushed him so hard. He would never be able to rely on natural talent like Bastian. Every moment on the ice would require focus and hard work. No skating by for Reid.

Henri would hate the idea of Reid owning a dog. When they were kids, Bastian had one, and Reid wasn’t allowed to walk him because Bast (a) deserved the companion more and (b) had to exhibit responsibility in owning it. Reid could easily imagine Henri’s reaction now, that fleshy mouth curved in a sneer, his barrel chest heaving in disgust.

How the hell can you look after that thing? Your focus will be divided. Remember you can’t fall back on a talent you don’t have.

Reid didn’t think he’d made a mistake because he now owned a dog. It was the other thing: her. He was going to allow a stranger stay in his apartment. Introduce an element of randomness to his carefully-calibrated world.

He rarely made a decision so quickly and now was torn between exhilaration at jumping in, feet first—literally!—and unease that he was moving too fast. Last night, the moment Kennedy left with instructions to return the next day at 10 a.m. precisely—it was now eleven minutes past—Reid had called Mia. The conversation went something like this:

“I need a reference.”

“Reid, is that you?”

“Oui. I’ve just hired the coffee shop girl to look after my dog. Can you verify she’s not some sort of grifter?”

Mia chuckled. “I can verify that I trust her with Gordie Howe when I’m out of town.”

Mia seemed like the kind of person who wouldn’t take guardianship of her dog lightly. She called the dog Gordie Howe, after the great player. Perhaps Reid should have done that—named his new friend after a legend.

Yet he balked at bringing hockey into it at all. He wanted this to be separate. He had very little in his life that existed apart from his career.

“She’s staying here. In my apartment.”

“Who? The dog?”

“Kennedy.” Just saying her name made him warm.

“Oh, I see. I suppose you could have her pick him up and bring him to her place?”

Kennedy had already said she couldn’t do that. “It’s better the dog stays here with the familiar. He needs special care. I just wonder if it’s a good idea to have a stranger in my apartment.”

It was a bit late to be making these kinds of enquiries. He just needed someone to tell him he wasn’t making a terrible decision.

“I can see that’s kind of tricky. I could visit if you want, see how they’re getting on.” She whispered away from the phone. The next voice he heard was … merde. Foreman’s.

“Durand, what’s the problem?”

“I see you’ve figured things out.”

“You could say that. What’s going on? You want Mia to check in at your place?”

“I didn’t say that—she offered.” The idiot growled and while normally Reid found it amusing to needle Mr. Nice Guy, he didn’t have time for games. “I’m not interested in your woman, Foreman. This is purely for informational purposes.”

“Right, the puppy. How’s he doing?”

“Fine.” He recalled their last conversation. “You said you share custody of your dog. How does that work?”

“My dog’s in Boston with my ex. I see him every couple of months. She sends pics, videos. We, uh, Facetime.”

“You FaceTime with your dog?” In the background, he could hear Mia saying something that sounded like “sexy,” followed by a muffled sound. Kissing. Serenity fucking now.

Foreman came back on. “He needs to know I’m still his guy, so the phone and video contact is important. You’re keeping the dog?”

“I am. But I had to hire someone to look after him while I’m away and I’m trying to determine the best way forward.” Neither